Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

She asked him the question directly, doing her best to tone down her expectations. ”Are you being serious?”

Lancet frowned slightly. ”Of course I’m serious.”

Spectra studied his face closely. ”Months ago, when you said you would help me recover what I lost, I assumed there was at least a possibility you were simply telling me what I wanted to hear.”

”Did you think I was lying when I said I was going to do it?” Lancet asked, giving her a flat look.

Her lips curved into a small, guarded smile. ”You do realize what you are offering me, dear Master. My catalyst does not simply hold a few Demons.”

”I know.”

”Baphomet is in it.”

”I definitely know,” Lancet replied.

Spectra stepped closer, searching his eyes for any lingering hesitation. ”And that does not frighten you? If you return it to me, I become far more powerful than I am now. Powerful enough that betraying you becomes a much more dangerous possibility.”

Lancet met her gaze without flinching. ”I can worry about that later. You were there when we first spoke about the Human Citadel.”

Her expression sharpened instantly at the reminder.

”It’s started,” Lancet said. ”We’ve got two weeks before everyone returns to the Golden Barracks and the real training begins. If we’re going into Gehenna, I want you as strong as possible before that happens.”

Spectra remained quiet for a long moment before letting out a soft, genuine laugh. ”If I were not such an evil villainess, I might hug you.” When Lancet blinked in surprise, her smile turned slow and seductive. ”Perhaps I will.”

Lancet immediately looked away, clearing his throat. ”Maybe we should focus.”

His discomfort only amused her more, but she mercifully let the subject drop. ”Very well, my cowardly Master. Then tell me why we are standing in Rosenblum. Do you actually know my catalyst is here?”

”Not exactly.” When Spectra raised a skeptical brow, Lancet pulled the Grand Auction invitation from his coat and tapped the heavy card against his palm.

”Rosenblum is the trade capital of the world. Old magical artifacts, dead Summoner catalysts, relics from previous eras, things dug out of ruins, they all end up here one way or the other. So if your necklace survived long enough to enter circulation, there’s a very good chance it passed through here at some point. The Grand Auction deals in exactly the kind of items that would attract it.”

Spectra considered the logic and slowly nodded. ”Reasonable.”

”So I’m hoping it either appears at the Auction, or someone there knows exactly where it went,” Lancet explained.

”If it is here, we may not need to search blindly.” Spectra lightly touched two fingers against her chest, right over her core. ”The catalyst was bound to me for years. If I get close enough, I will feel it.”

”How close?”

”I do not know anymore. Distance, physical barriers, whatever new enchantments now surround it... all of those things may interfere. But once I pick up the trace, the pull should become stronger the closer I get.”

Lancet smiled in satisfaction. ”Good.”

He reached into his pockets and pulled out one of the magical supplements he had purchased before leaving the Golden Barracks. The heavy cylinder gleamed gold through its clear casing. He cracked the seal and swallowed the liquid in a single gulp.

Spectra watched him closely. ”Since when did you become so Grace-thirsty?”

Lancet wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ”I already have Thor anchored on a mission. And now I have you out as well. Which means I’m burning through way more Grace than usual, so I need to stay topped up.”

Spectra tilted her head in curiosity. ”Does Thor’s mission also concern your Human Citadel?”

”Something like that,” Lancet muttered, already closing his eyes.

The raw energy from the supplement rapidly spread through his bloodstream. Five hundred MP worth of magical energy flooded his system at once, but Lancet deliberately stopped it from absorbing directly.

Focusing inward, he activated Separation, using the siege method to aggressively force the mixed energy apart. Pure Grace pooled neatly toward his core, while the heavier Gloom was driven outward, pushed roughly through his channels and expelled from his skin in thin, dark wisps.

The separation process felt much cleaner than his earlier attempts. When Lancet opened his eyes, he checked the result.

[ Separation Complete ]

[ Grace absorbed : 350 MP ]

[ Grace reserves : 2050 MP ]

It was a solid return, well over half.

He tossed the empty cylinder away and glanced at her. Then he stopped and properly looked at her.

”Fuck.”

She eyed him. ”What is it?”

Spectra’s signature crimson rose headgear alone was enough to stop traffic. Combined with the rest of her dramatic, villainous attire, there was absolutely no chance she could walk into the Grand Auction unnoticed.

Lancet pointed a firm finger at her. ”Since you’re basically my catalyst detector, you’re coming with me to the auction. But you’re not wearing that.”

Spectra looked down at herself innocently. ”Not wearing what exactly?”

”All of it.”

Her predatory smile returned instantly. Lancet realized a second too late exactly how that sounded.

Spectra stepped close to him. ”Dear Master, if you wanted to see me naked, you could simply have asked.”

Lancet just stared at her, his cheeks heating up. He cleared his throat and pointed directly at the headgear. ”Unequip that first.”

Laughing softly at his rigid composure, she obeyed, and the crimson roses dissolved into red mist.

”Now most of the rest,” Lancet instructed.

Her eyes gleamed with obvious amusement as the heavy, ornate pieces of her usual clothing vanished one after another. She stripped down until only a simple dark underlayer remained.

Her one-piece battle garment made from soft black fabric, fitted skin-tight around her waist and torso with narrow shoulder straps and a high cut over the hips.

Her breasts were ample, full and bulging out of her chest. Her long legs were completely exposed, though the remaining material covered just enough to keep the situation from becoming entirely ridiculous on a public street.

Spectra looked down at her exposed legs, then back up at Lancet. ”Better?”

Lancet made sure his eyes were at face level. ”Well, you’re less recognizable.”

”Mm.”

”I’m trying to remove absolutely everything people would immediately associate with Spectra Hexerra,” he explained, pointedly ignoring her teasing tone.

Glancing toward the opposite sidewalk, Lancet spotted a wealthy merchant walking past with a pair of dark sunglasses half-sticking from his coat pocket.

Lancet used Grace to telekinetically steal the sunglasses cleanly from the pocket. It drifted smoothly across the busy road behind the man’s back, and landed perfectly in Lancet’s open hand without the merchant ever noticing the theft.

Spectra watched the flawless execution. Lancet held the glasses out to her. ”Put these on.”

She didn’t say anything about what he just did. A villainess like her had no standing to give any moral judgement.

Spectra only laughed and slipped the glasses onto her face. The dark lenses completely hid her striking crimson eyes. Lancet looked her over, satisfied. ”Much better.”

”Your standards for disguise are terribly low,” she noted.

”That’s why we’re going shopping,” he said. ”You’re not going to be dressed like that in the auction.”

That got Spectra’s attention.

They entered one of Rosenblum’s massive, multi-level shopping centers a few minutes later. Within seconds, Spectra completely discarded Lancet’s original plan.

He had fully intended to walk in, buy one modern outfit, and leave. Instead, the ancient villainess became fiercely interested in absolutely everything.

She stopped at every high-end clothing display, trailing her fingers over synthetic fabrics she had never seen before and ruthlessly questioning the boutique staff about modern cuts, strange materials, and why certain outfits were considered fashionable despite looking aggressively uncomfortable.

One unlucky store worker made the critical mistake of suggesting a pink floral dress would ”soften her intimidating features.”

Spectra slowly turned toward the woman. ”Do my features intimidate you?”

The worker froze like prey. Lancet closed his eyes and sighed.

Spectra said she liked flowers, but only roses. They were beautiful but their thorns made them dangerous. She didn’t mind pink too, but it had to be dark pink. Very dark pink. Very very dark pi—

Basically just red, Lancet had infuriatingly pointed out.

”Yes,” Spectra said. ”Red indeed.”

As the worker laughed nervously and backed away, Lancet stepped quickly between them. ”She’ll take something simple.”

Spectra glared at him. ”Simple is boring.”

”We’re not rebuilding your entire wardrobe,” Lancet insisted, muffling his tone. ”This is just for the auction!”

Spectra casually glanced around the expensive boutique then made a face. A sigh followed. ”Alright, fine.”

She eventually settled on something modern enough to blend into Rosenblum without losing her edge. The outfit was built around a fitted, black (because Lancet had said red was too Spectra-esque) long-sleeved top with a clean neckline, tucked into a short dark skirt that sat high on her waist.

She paired it with sheer black stockings and slight-heeled, knee-high boots, finishing the look with a long charcoal coat that drifted lightly behind her when she walked.

It was elegant, sharp, and just threatening enough to suit her personality without publicly announcing that the Mother of Demons had entered the building. The stolen sunglasses remained firmly in place.

Her hair was the next major problem. Spectra’s stark white hair would draw a little attention. They handled it at a high-end salon deeper inside the shopping center, where stylists dyed it a deep, glossy black and worked it into long, smooth waves that cascaded down her back.

When she finally turned toward the tall mirror, even Lancet had to admit the transformation was dramatic. The crimson eyes were hidden, the iconic white hair was gone, the monstrous headgear was missing, and the sharp modern clothes completely changed her silhouette.

Nobody casually glancing at her on the street would ever connect the stylish woman in front of them with Spectra Hexerra.

Spectra critically studied her new reflection. ”I look suspiciously respectable.”

Lancet stepped up behind her, adjusting the cuffs of a newly fitted suit of his own. He had chosen something simple but undeniably expensive: a dark, tailored jacket, a crisp white shirt, narrow trousers, and freshly polished shoes.

The cut fit his frame perfectly enough that Spectra turned away from the mirror and openly looked him up and down twice. ”Well.”

Lancet checked his sleeve. ”What?”

”You clean up nicely, dear Master.”

He looked at her, held her gaze for a second, and then looked away. ”You look good too.”

Spectra smiled a slow, devastating smile. ”Coward,” she teased lightly.

”Come on.” Lancet led the way out. They left the shopping center and stepped back out into the bustling, wealthy streets of Rosenblum. Lancet stood on the curb, carefully scanning both directions of the busy traffic lanes.

”Now let’s find a real cab this time.”